


Loverboy

by Bandity



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Injury, It's me so someone is going to puke, Langst, accidental poisoning, description of infection, descriptions of medical care, light stabbing, secret stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-20 12:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandity/pseuds/Bandity
Summary: If this was his last night before heading out to their biggest fight, he would rather not spend it staring at the wall and pretending like he could sleep.That party was just a few floors down from where they were staying.He could probably just take a little walk and still be back before it was too late...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I first started this, I thought it would be posted in a few weeks. Fast forward 4 months and here we are. The school semester was brutal... but let's not think about that anymore. Sorry for the delay, here is the winner of my "What Should I Write Next Poll?"

Coran was resting. 

After the whole debacle with the ear worm and their last Voltron show, they were all trying to rest. 

They wouldn't have the time for it later. 

Everybody hoped the end of fighting was in sight, but nobody could be certain. Certain they could finish the war, certain they'd all come out the other side of it alright...

Nobody really talked about that.

Lance sighed. It wasn't really the time to worry about all that now. His mind wandered instead to their last show and back to how exhausted Coran had looked by the end of it. 

He didn't quite get why Coran would go to the extremes he did and he felt guilt creeping into his mind.

Maybe if he had done a bit better, Coran wouldn't have pushed himself too far. 

Lance rolled in his bed. He didn't like that thought.

They were spending the night planetside. They had a nice suite to themselves and it was a nice change of scenery from the castleship. But Shiro had said they were leaving early in the morning. They had really only stayed the night because some last meetings had run late and they had decided it would be good to stay, respect the planet's hospitality and foster their friendship with their allies.

Foster friendship, but not attend any parties, though they had been invited. Shiro had been very clear on that. Rest was important right now.

But it wasn’t _that_ late.

Lance sat up in bed. He wasn't tired. If this was his last night before heading out to their biggest fight, he would rather not spend it staring at the wall and pretending like he could sleep.

That party was just a few floors down from where they were staying.

He could probably just take a little walk and still be back before it was too late...

* * *

 

Lance had considered asking Hunk to join him, but when he checked on his friend, Hunk was passed out and snoring loudly. No sense in interrupting his friend’s sleep.

He crept quietly through the suite, not that it mattered, everyone was slumbering peacefully. Even Pidge wasn't lurking in any corners on her computer. He slipped out, undetected. 

Lance made his way down several floors to the party level. With a wide grin and a confident stride he entered the room with all the swagger he could muster. There was an immediate response and several people rushed forward, bombarding him with attention.

He signed some autographs, took pictures and had refreshments bestowed upon him all in the manner of a few dobashes. 

He tried something round and sweet that a pretty yellow alien had handed him and it was so good, he felt a bit remorseful for not making Hunk come with him now.

Though his friend would have been stressed from sneaking out, he knew Hunk would have enjoyed the variety of appetizers. Lance would just have to take some back for him. 

The rooms were crowded and there was quite a throng of people who flitted around him. He smiled, winked and sweet talked his way through the main room. 

Music was playing in the background, just loud enough to disrupt the quieter conversations.

He soon found himself sitting on a couch, retailing a few of Voltron's adventures when a drink appeared in his hand. He quickly thanked the small scaled alien that had perched on the arm rest next to him and continued his story. His cup was soon emptied and he found another quickly thrust into his hand. Encouraged, Lance finished his tale and started another. 

Soon they were all laughing and smiling and that was when he felt warmth spread through his chest and realized he was perhaps drinking something alcoholic. And, judging by the quilled alien that had just fallen asleep on his arm, stabbing him a bit through his shirtsleeve, it seemed he wasn't the only one feeling tipsy. 

With a  fixed grin, he stood up, making an excuse to go, when the most beautiful being he had seen that evening was grabbing his arm with three long, slender fingers. 

“Does the Paladin dance?" 

"Yes!" Lance's answer tumbled out of his mouth before he could think twice. 

She laughed and it was like wind chimes. Lance thought her smile was like starlight.  

She pulled him into a large group of swaying aliens and set her hands at his elbows, steadying him before they began dancing.

As he moved to unfamiliar music, he couldn't help but grin widely. 

This was something he was going to miss. 

Nobody knew when they would be able to take any time off, not until after the war probably. And while Shiro was hoping to end it all quickly, nobody knew what was going to happen for sure. They could mess it up.

Lance could mess it up.

Lance spun around, letting his eyes fall shut at the unsteady way the world tilted. 

An arm was around him then and a voice asked if he was alright. The words seemed to blend together and he nodded, though he didn’t understand what was happening.

"I'm alright." Lance found his grin again, though it was strained and his new helper was now pulling him to the side. 

"Here, drink."

Lance took the cup he was offered, realizing with surprise that he was incredibly thirsty. 

He gulped down the water and sighed as it left an icy cold trail down his esophagus. It left a slightly bitter aftertaste on his tongue, but he didn’t care.

"You should be careful."

Lance focused on the alien who had helped him out. She was short, about as tall as Pidge. She was covered in fine green fur and had large ears. Lance was reminded of a mouse and when her nose twitched at him, it only added to the visual. He thought she was wearing a scarf, but then he heard the concerned “bii-boh” from the thin alien and saw the small eyes staring at him curiously and he realized her scarf wasn’t a scarf at all. Lance guessed they must be friends.

"What?" Lance spoke over the music. 

"I said ‘you should be careful.’ You were dancing with an Ense'tar."

"I don't-" Lance shook his head. "I've never met one before. Where are they from?"

"They aren't from anywhere. They're a sub-race. An Ense'tar is two very aggressive races combined."

"Bii!"

"Yeah, they're very territorial. You have to be careful."

"She seemed alright." Lance did his best not to slur.

"She's watching you."

Lance snapped his head, scanning the crowd. Indeed, he saw a pale blue head and two dark eyes staring intently at him from the dance floor.

"I'm going anyway." Lance drained the last of the water and handed the glass back to his newest acquaintance. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Travel safe, paladin."

Lance nodded and slipped along the wall until he got to the exit. He hoped his retreat wouldn't be immediately noticed. It was late now and he hadn't been planning on causing any problems or finding any kind of trouble. 

Lance found himself glancing over his shoulder as he walked quickly back to their suite. The hallways were quiet, the music fading away into the background. 

With a guilty jolt in his gut, he realized he forgot to bring something for Hunk to try. There wasn't any going back now. What had started off as something fun, had ended on a pretty sour note. Sure he had snuck out to a party and he'd been having a good time with some lovely ladies, but he knew a predatory look when he saw one. Best to avoid anything that could cause any kind of trouble.

Lance stumbled upon entering their suite and he realized that along with a warmth in his chest, he felt a heaviness in his limbs. 

Probably would be best to sleep off any kind of alcohol he had consumed. It hadn't been on purpose, but he didn't think Shiro or the rest of the team would be the most understanding. 

Lance shuffled to his room. He managed to toe off his shoes before collapsing onto the bed. 

With a great amount of effort, he wrapped his comforter around himself. As his body sunk into the bedding, he felt like the world spun around him. Lance swallowed hard against sudden nausea. He screwed his eyes shut and focused on breathing through his nose. 

_ Just sleep, you'll feel better in the morning. Sleep. _

Lance sighed, forcing his thoughts to be calm. 

_ Just sleep... _

* * *

 

"Lance!" Hunk burst into the room with way too much energy for the early morning. "You gotta wake up! We're going to be leaving soon!" Hunk waited for some kind of response. 

Lance groaned and flung an arm over his face. Hunk took it as a good enough reply for now.

"I'm making breakfast! It should be ready in ten." 

Lance hummed deep in his throat and Hunk was on his way out again. He had breakfast to finish and serve and he wanted it to be just right. He was pretty sure he had perfected his space omelette. 

Lost in preparations, he was soon plating food and accepting compliments from everyone before he noticed they were a paladin short. 

"Coran, did Lance come out of his room?"

Coran waved his hand through the air. He'd been fighting a headache for days and was looking a bit pale as he eyed the food on his plate. 

"I've not seen him yet." Coran cleared his throat and attempted a small bite of his eggs. 

Hunk worried at his lower lip. He nonchalantly put the plate he was holding down and casually made his way out of the kitchen. He didn't want to let everyone know Lance was possibly not even awake yet. Shiro would be irritated, Allura would probably scold him. 

Nope. Friends didn't let friends get caught sleeping in too late. 

Hunk made sure not to bring attention to himself as he slipped away down the short hallway to Lance's room. 

* * *

 

Lance had woken up that morning to a sharp pain in his stomach. But he was so tired, he just curled up and hoped it would go away. He moved to wrap his arms around himself, but his right arm dragged listlessly along the sheets and his left arm burst into pain. 

He hissed as a burning sensation shot through him. Had he done... something to his arm? 

The events of last night were fuzzy at best. 

Guess that was space alcohol.

Lance's head pounded and his stomach lurched. 

He hadn't actually been drunk before and he certainly hadn't been hungover. Is this what it felt like? 

His face itched and something under his skin buzzed, making him squirm. 

He wanted to pull his face off.

He was so wrapped up in the uncomfortable sensation, he didn't realize Hunk was practically shouting something at him.

Something about breakfast.

Lance managed to groan and fling his right arm over his face.

Hunk was gone before it clicked into place.

Right. They were leaving today. He needed to move...

He needed to…

* * *

 

Hunk made sure the door was shut behind him all the way before he started talking because Lance... Lance was still in bed.

"Oh man, Lance, wake up, we gotta go soon."

Hunk was back. Back already or... Lance pried his eyes open. Had he fallen back asleep?

He groaned and pushed himself upright.

Well, he tried to. His arms twitched and shuffled a bit anyway.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Lance shut his eyes again. Why did everything feel so far away? 

"Hunfff...uner." Lance’s tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and he swallowed the saliva that had been collecting there. It sent his stomach reeling. Sharp and burning and he sucked in a loud breath to keep from crying out.

"Lance?" Worry permeated Hunk's tone and without permission, he pulled away the thick comforter, revealing a very pale and sweating friend. 

Lance let out a quiet keen of complaint, unable to do anything to stop it. 

Hunk brought a hand down to his forehead, brushing away his bangs there. 

Lance was too warm.

"What happened? You didn't seem sick last night." 

"Went out." Lance managed to articulate clearly enough. His stomach clenched with the effort. "Party," Lance forced out between clenched teeth.

"What?"

Lance gave a forceful sigh. He wasn’t making sense. 

"Hangover." Lance managed to bring his knees up and curl onto his side. 

"Uh... Okay. You snuck out last night. Okay." Hunk glanced back to the door, thinking of the rest of their team getting ready to leave any moment. 

Lance groaned as he tried to wrap his arms around his knees. Why did his arm feel like it was on fire?

"Lance, this doesn't look like a hangover, man. This looks like you're really sick. Space flu or something."

Not a hangover. Now that Lance thought about it, it should have been obvious. Not his fault he didn't actually have first hand experience. 

Lance huffed out a breath in slight irritation. 

"Can you sit up?" Hunk was just beginning to have a note of panic in his voice. 

Right. Lance couldn't stay in bed. They were moving on today. There was a strategic plan in place that was time sensitive and depending on Voltron and Lance could not put that at risk.

_ Grow up. You're arm doesn't hurt that badly.  _

Lance sucked in a breath and pitched himself upwards. 

Pain exploded in his head and limbs and his stomach cramped in one final warning before everything came back up.

He knew he was throwing up and he knew Hunk was now full on panicking. He could hear his stressed rambling in his ears, but the world dimmed, tilted sideways and Lance felt his awareness slip. He was lost in a haze of pain and a confusion that would have alarmed him if he wasn't so far gone.

His arm sent piercing hot jolts through him that overwhelmed everything else. 

_ Don't touch my arm, please don't, God, let go let go let go _

He only knew he was crying because Hunk was begging him not to. 

He had barely registered that Hunk was carrying him, when a harsh cold slammed into his back as he was set down on the floor. Cold tiles... Hunk had managed to get him to the bathroom at least. 

More voices and some part of him felt the dread of being ratted out for sneaking out when he wasn't supposed to. 

_ Stupid. Childish. _

"Don't be mad, Shiro. Please..." Lance swallowed down bile.

"He's not mad. He's getting Coran." Hunk was wiping at his face, cleaning up the sickness there. He pulled Lance's shirt up and off over his head, apologizing when Lance cried out at the movement.

"You're okay. You're... Woah. Dude, your arm. What happened?"

The cold of the floor had brought Lance back enough that he could frown and try to look at his arm. Through blurred eyes he couldn't tell what was wrong. Except for it seemed swollen and dark red above his elbow, near his shoulder. 

Lance felt another wave of nausea and he let his head drop back to the floor. 

What was happening? He felt like his insides had been churned up and his arm radiated heat and pain in overwhelming waves. 

Very real fear slipped into his consciousness. His heart felt like it was skipping beats in his chest. 

"Hunk," Lance breathed out in a cracked voice, "'m I dying?" 

"You're not dying." Pidge's voice, sounding snappish and touched by fear. A bleary glance revealed she was peering at him from behind the doorway. She was trying to stay out of the way, the bathroom was narrow and barely had room for Lance on the floor with Hunk hovering beside him. 

Lance shut his eyes and turned his head away from them. He was trying not to cry, but found his face already felt very damp.

"You're going to be okay," Hunk whispered as he brushed calloused fingers through Lance's hair. 

Lance took as deep a breath as he could manage and tried to nod, but he really couldn't tell if he had moved at all.

* * *

 

Coran was tired. 

But as it was his own fault, he couldn't let his exhaustion interfere with Voltron or the coalition or the war really. 

So he got some rest and then was up and about. The headache and nausea was just something he would have to deal with. Soon, he was getting ready and bustling around, ignoring the extra effort it took to move his limbs about. He was fine. Absolutely. 

He had left breakfast quickly, not feeling hungry after all, and had just finished packing up the last of his things when Shiro burst into his room, too serious and talking too fast for Coran to catch every detail.

Coran was so tired. 

He found Lance strewn across the bathroom floor, without a shirt, pale, sweating and with his arm swollen larger around than a tesarbi tuber. 

The boy heaved with a dry retch and Coran immediately sent Allura for the emergency medical kit that was kept by the building's staff. Coran breathed out forcefully through his nose, trying to acclimate to the smell of vomit, ignoring the flip his own stomach did.

Coran realized he had several sets of eyes locked onto him. They were waiting for him to do something. But for once, Coran felt his mind spin to a slow stop. _Right_. _Think_.  _Swollen arm, sweating, vomiting, crying now, what is it? What's happened to him? How did it happen? Arm. Look at the arm._

Coran moved to Lance's side, kneeling down beside him in the cramped space. Puncture holes dotted Lance's arm. They were red and angry and had swelled grotesquely, but he imagined they had started much smaller. 

"Lance, my boy, what's punctured your arm?"

He didn't think he would get an answer, but Lance’s blue eyes fluttered open, swam in their sockets and, with effort, found Coran.

Lance mouthed something, licked his lips and tried again. 

"Hedgehog girl."

"Hedge… hog?" Coran elongated the words, unable to decipher what that meant. Lance had a fever, he could be making up nonsense.

"It's a small spiky animal on earth. It has spines for defense," Pidge supplied quickly.

"Fell asleep on my arm," Lance mumbled.

Coran digested that information, piecing together what he was being told. _Fell asleep on his arm?_

"Could be a Telminian. But when did this happen?"

"Lance snuck out to a party last night," Hunk muttered. 

Lance groaned. He knew he would have to come clean, but did Hunk have to tell the truth so blatantly? Bad enough he had snuck out and now he was so sick and he knew it was his own stupid fault. 

"Alright," Coran murmured as he very gently prodded at Lance's elbow. Sneaking out alone was unsafe, but Coran didn’t have a right to reprimand that. He wasn’t actually the boy’s guardian or even a good example. "Telminians can have certain chemicals on their skin, along their spines. It could be allergies to one of the chemicals."

Lance hissed as Coran tilted his arm toward the light. "Sorry, my boy," he hummed softly. "Worst allergic reaction I've ever seen though. It's almost like it's reacting with something..."

Coran went quiet. There was a heavy pause when Hunk looked at Coran and then to Shiro, who only shook his head slightly in response. 

Coran’s head snapped up and he caught Hunk’s eye. 

“Do humans have urlonium in their system?” 

Hunk blinked. “Ur-urlonium? I don’t-” Hunk looked to Pidge, but she shook her head. 

“That’s not something we have. That’s not even something on earth.”

Coran looked back at Lance, studying the way the boy breathed shallowly, the way his eyes watered as they moved about the room, looking at each of them in turn. The boy's gaze lingered on Shiro, who stood just outside the door with Pidge. Lance’s breath caught and he gasped out a strangled noise that may have been an apology. 

“What is it?” Hunk felt like his voice was too loud for the small, crowded room and he shrunk in on himself without thinking. 

“It’s a common substance in many parts of the galaxy, usually harmless, but it reacts with phenstanol.”

“Humans don’t have that.” The words come from Shiro, but his mouth clamped shut as soon as he said them. 

“Shiro…” Pidge murmured softly. Because Shiro was fighting to keep his hands steady and he wasn't gone, but something had slipped out of place. Chemical knowledge wasn’t Shiro’s expertise, human anatomy wasn’t Shiro’s strong suit. It never had been. 

But there were moments.

Moments when Shiro knew something that he had never learned on earth. And there was darkness in the act of knowing.

As though he’d had the information drilled into his head while it was painfully discovered and reported in dark tones to superiors. 

The Galra had never seen a human before. They had been eager to learn.

Coran cleared his throat, he needed everyone to stay in the present. 

“Humans may not have phenstanol, but Telminians do.” Coran put two fingers to Lance’s neck, taking his pulse. He usually relied on the castleship’s infirmary diagnostics to give him a heart rate, but he had seen Shiro take a pulse that way. Coran understood the basic idea. “It doesn’t explain how he would have urlonium in his system though. It would have to have gotten into his bloodstream or been ingested and it’s not a common food ingredient. It’s more common in cleaning supplies.”

“Didn’t drink cleaner,” Lance mumbled. He turned his face into the floor, chasing the cold. His face was so hot, it sent pinpricks down his neck. 

“Maybe it’s not urlonium. Maybe it’s reacting with something else in his body.” Pidge shuffled forward, craning her neck to inspect Lance. 

“That’s possible too.”

Did humans have anything similar to urlonium in their bodies? Coran didn’t know, he needed his database back on the ship. 

Lance shuddered and Coran realized he had lost track of thready heartbeats long ago. 

“Sorry, my boy.” Coran put his hand to the boy’s forehead. Humans carried their fevers there, Shiro had told him that as well. 

Allura showed up then, out of breath and carrying with her a large first aid kit. Coran cleared the room, telling them all to give him space. Cleaning the injury was a high priority. If there was a pod stay in Lance's future, it would be better to go in with at least clean wounds. Coran also did not want to wait another moment and risk abscesses forming under Lance’s skin. He would clean it out and then they could move him to the castleship and Coran could figure out what had happened exactly. Hunk elected to stay with Lance on the floor. That was fine. Coran was going to need someone to hold Lance still for the next part. 

He lined up his materials, a numbing spray, gauze and cleaning solutions and an ointment that would progress healing. Coran made sure he had everything, he triple checked. He gave Hunk a solemn nod and Hunk went a bit pale, but he nodded and gently pulled Lance to lean against his chest.

Lance cried out softly, but he didn’t fight them. Hunk whispered comfort into his friend’s hair and Lance quieted. Coran nodded his approval at Hunk and the boy forced a tight smile. 

They were always so brave. 

Coran was tired. 

* * *

 

Lance felt like he was listening to a broken transmission and someone kept changing the frequency on him. 

He could hear them talking about chemicals and plans and Lance couldn’t follow it all even though he tried, but he knew it wasn’t good. 

Hunk had pulled him into his arms and, while Lance normally appreciated Hunk’s hugs, it was too warm and it jostled his arm painfully. He felt the vibration of Hunk’s words in his chest and the calming tone that hummed into his hair. 

“Hold still, it’ll be alright…”

Coran had said something too and Lance felt like he was missing some important instruction or explanation. He had just enough sense to realize something was going to happen when he felt something cold wash over his arm. He lurched at the sensation, but Hunk’s arms wrapped around him tighter, keeping him from getting away.

“That should numb it. I have to clean it, I will be quick.” 

Lance tried to lean away, though he knew he shouldn’t. 

That coldness was back, washing over his arm and it stung and sent piercing pain through him. He felt it stab through him, making his chest seize and his stomach roll. 

There was a long pause where Hunk told him to breathe. Lance tried to, but as soon as he did, there was pressure on his arm and Coran made a noise in the back of his throat.

Lance allowed his head to loll so he could look at his arm with watering eyes. Something off white was draining out of one of the puncture wounds. Coran was dabbing it away and muttered under his breath. 

Lance felt his stomach lurch and he shut his eyes tightly against it. Whatever they had done to numb it, it didn't work on the deeper pains.

The process dragged on. 

Lance was able to stop struggling, but he couldn’t halt the tears that formed while Coran cleaned out his puncture wounds. 

Finally, there was pain relieving ointment applied and then gauze and gentle bandages wrapped around his arm.

“All done.” Coran said with a sigh. 

Hunk squeezed him slightly. 

“You did good,” he whispered. Lance shook his head. He hadn’t had much of a choice in the whole matter anyway. Though now that it was over, his arm did feel better and he felt like he could think a little more clearly. Lance swallowed the saliva that had collected in his mouth. 

“I really thought you were going to throw up on me for a second.”

“Still might happen, Hunk,” Lance replied shakily.

“That’s alright.” Hunk smoothed down some of his hair; he knew Lance was particular about his looks and his friend still had bedhead. 

Lance sighed deeply, leaning into the touch. He hoped the worst was over.

* * *

 

Lance had actually kind of missed his room on the castleship when they were staying planetside. And he was going to miss it for a little longer, as he was sentenced to the infirmary for the foreseeable future. 

They had sat on the bathroom floor for another varga, until Lance didn’t look so pale and Coran said he felt comfortable moving him. Hunk had carried him aboard the castleship. It hadn’t been the farewell they had been expecting. Lance was glad for that. He had garnered quite a few fans and he really didn’t want them to see him being carried, sweaty and sick and a complete mess. It didn’t look good for the war effort to have one of the paladins looking so weak. 

And he just didn’t look good. 

So much for “Loverboy Lance.”  

He was pale and gross and Hunk had wrapped him in a blanket before carrying him off. He looked defeated. 

Pathetic. 

He had gone quiet, shivering on the exam table as Coran moved around him, scanning him and covering him with an extra blanket. 

Shiro and Allura had both left. They had been talking about messaging the rest of the coalition. Specifically, about delaying their rendez-vous. Lance felt like he had been kicked in the chest. This wasn’t what he wanted to happen. 

Lance felt Hunk’s hand on his forehead and he sighed at the contact. Dry fingertips moved through his hairline and he opened his eyes to see Hunk frowning. His friend’s expression changed when he noticed Lance looking. 

“Did you hear? Coran says there’s no urlonium in your system.”

He hadn’t heard. He supposed he had been asleep, though he didn’t remember drifting off. Lance took that information and rolled it around in his skull. No weird chemical. Fine. 

Lance heard Coran make a sound in his throat that Lance registered as frustration a few ticks after the fact. 

“Would going in the pod help?” Hunk’s hand twitched nervously and Lance dimly wondered if his friend had forgotten that his fingers were still perched on his scalp. 

“Wouldn’t be safe if the system doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.” Coran was studying the computer readout intensely. “Nothing is showing up. Nothing that would react with his wound the way it did, anyway.”

Their conversation went on above him and Lance tried to listen, but he felt so sore and tired. Hunk had carefully tucked the blanket around him and Lance felt like he could just sleep. Maybe he would feel better when he woke up.

Lance was just beginning to slip into sleep, when he registered a third voice in the room. Concerned, serious, stressed… Shiro. An immediate apology slipped past his lips and the room went silent. 

“Are you awake?” Hunk asked quietly near his ear. With effort, Lance unstuck his eyelids and glanced around the room. Shiro was standing close, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth. 

“Lance,” Shiro began immediately once he met Lance’s eyes. “Do you remember eating anything that made you feel sick?”

The first drink had been okay, but then there was the second and the third and whatever he was being given to eat by strangers that had seemed trustworthy enough in the moment. He had started to feel off at some point, sure, but it hadn’t been instant and he had no idea what had caused him to feel that weird in the first place. 

Lance may have muttered out his weak explanations because Shiro was staring at him with a furrowed brow and a look in his eye that Lance had seen before in the authority figures throughout his life. 

“Lance,” Shiro shook his head. “You’re not at the Garrison anymore.” 

Disappointment.

“Sneaking out and going to parties can’t be your priority.”

Stop acting like a child. 

“That was unsafe and irresponsible.” 

An awkward silence filled the room. Lance moved his mouth, trying to apologize again, but a lump had formed in his throat and he couldn’t get the words out. Lance knew it was irresponsible. He already knew that. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about the war effort. He knew how hard everyone had been working. He knew how they had been planning and strategizing since forever. He knew he was messing things up. And when he had first woken up in the morning, he thought he might be dying and, along with being afraid for himself, he realized he was single handedly ruining the resistance. He should apologize. He needed to apologize again. But now the corners of his eyes burned and he knew he would start crying if he tried to speak.

“Didn’t you tell me that the whole reason you all met was because Lance had snuck out?” Coran’s voice cut through the awkward silence, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room. “That was the story wasn’t it?” Coran tilted his head to the side, glancing between Hunk and Shiro. 

Hunk recovered more quickly than Shiro. “We were all out past curfew.” Hunk tapped his fingers on Lance’s thin mattress. “We weren’t supposed to be there.”

Shiro sighed deeply and pressed his thumb and forefinger into the scarred bridge of his nose. 

“I am sorry, Lance. I know you aren’t feeling well already.” Shiro moved to set a hand on Lance’s shoulder, but stopped himself, realizing he had been about to put pressure on Lance’s injury. Shiro’s arm fell to the side, useless. “We can wait a few more days before we have to leave.” Shiro cleared his throat. “Just try to feel better.”

Lance gave the smallest nod in response, but he shut his eyes and didn’t open them again until he heard the door shut behind Shiro’s retreating footsteps. 

Coran turned back to his computer then, giving Lance time to breathe and calm down.

“He’s just stressed. It’ll be alright.” Hunk found Lance’s hand and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I just wanted to do something normal.” The words escaped Lance’s mouth before he could think about it and the tears slipped out even though he tried to stop them.  

“Look here, my boy." Coran had leaned away from his computer screen, hovering over Lance instead. "I am not angry with you. You meant no harm.” Coran brushed the tears away with a quick swipe of his thumb. 

“The coalition…” Lance managed, but Coran cut him off. 

“And making sure you’re alright is my most important duty right now. Understand?”

Lance liked his lips. He understood, but Lance had caused real harm here and guilt still squeezed at his chest. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“No more apologies.” Coran straightened up. “Let’s fix you up and then we can get on our way, Hmm?”

Lance nodded, only realizing his head hurt after the fact. Actually, everything hurt, but he stopped himself from grimacing. 

Time to be brave. 

Time to stop acting like a child. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will post the next part when I finish editing it. It's probably going to be three chapters, but the ending needs some polishing and sometimes I add a chapter when that happens.
> 
> Also... if you read O Come Let Us Adore Him, you may have caught my half Enseldian in this chapter.
> 
> Thank you! Please leave a comment! It's been a difficult journey with this one and comments always make me feel better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was trying to get this posted on Tuesday. Didn't quite make it... Anyway, please excuse mistakes.  
> Thank you to everyone who has been commenting, dropping kudos and bookmarking. I appreciate the support.

Lance slipped in and out of sleep. He felt Hunk holding his hand and he could hear the consistent thrum of voices talking around him. He had grown so tired.

A cold compress on his forehead startled him into a near consciousness, his body tensing at the sensation, but relaxing when it wasn’t accompanied by pain.

“You have a fever,” Hunk murmured quietly near his ear. Lance huffed out a noisy breath, too weary to form words. Luckily, Hunk knew that it meant Lance understood.

Lance was content to fall back asleep, but he caught Coran’s voice, sounding slow and lower than usual.

“I don’t know what it is.”

Well, that didn’t sound good.

“He should be improving…”

Lance forced his eyes to open and stay that way.

“What are we going to do?” Hunk unconsciously squeezed his hand too tightly. Lance tried not to react to the pressure. Hunk was nervous and Lance could at least be comforting by not complaining about being held too tightly.

“Well, since he doesn’t remember what he drank or ate that caused this, I’ve sent word to the closest medical facility; perhaps it’s something local… Hello, my boy.” Coran finally noticed Lance’s opened eyes.

Lance pulled both his hands to his chest, bringing Hunk’s hand along as well and letting it settle over his heart. He curled up as best he could. There was a tug and a pinch and Lance struggled to bring the back of his left hand into focus.

Something was there.

“This was the best way to hydrate you while you slept,” Coran quickly explained. “Your hand was easiest to access and I can move it to your arm if it fails.”

Coran had started an IV line in his hand. Lance hadn’t woken up at all for that.

“Well, while you’re awake, I need to ask you a few questions, alright?”

Lance nodded.

“I know you can’t quite remember everything, but was there anything about the party that seemed off or anyone who made you uncomfortable? Maybe anyone who seemed too eager to give you food or a drink?”

Lance’s mind swirled with memories and vague recollections. He hadn’t really been paying attention and everyone had seemed eager that he eat and drink something.

And that he dance with them.

“There was a- a, uh… Ense’tah?”

“An Ense'tar?” Coran’s raised his eyebrows and Lance felt a pang of guilt as he remembered.

“I felt sick before we danced, but I don’t know if she was there before, she could have given me something to drink. I didn’t notice.” Lance licked his lips, feeling like his mouth had gone completely dry. “She stared at me… it felt weird. I left because of her.”

“What’s an Ense’tar?” Hunk asked, he hadn’t heard of that race before.

Coran hummed deep in his throat. “They’re not known to be friendly.” He turned and typed something into the computer. “Not a good reputation; I wouldn’t want to assume it was the Ense’tar at fault, but if she made you uncomfortable…” Coran trailed off, studying a readout on his screen.

“What is it?” Hunk asked, worried that Coran had gone too quiet.

“Nothing, there’s a certain chemical used by Ense’tar mercenaries. I was checking for it.” Coran looked back, caught the widened eyes of both Hunk and Lance, and quickly waved his hand through the air. “Oh, it's not there! Apologies, that’s not what is in your system… There is something though.”

Coran tapped a few keys and, with a loud buzz, the screen went red and two words popped up, hiding the rest

“What is that?” Hunk stood up from his chair, anxiety overcoming him.

Coran took one long breath, the briefest moment of panic slipped away from him and composure replaced it.

“That,” Coran pointed at his screen, cleared his throat and turned to Hunk, “that is the Altean word for ‘unknown.’” Coran turned back to his screen, pointing at the second word on his screen. “And that is the Altean word for poison.”

* * *

 

Coran had assumed it was some kind of poison. Lance had shown a lack of improvement, even with medicine that would combat an allergic reaction and an infection. But seeing the castle computer classify it as such, gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Poison for one race was not necessarily poison for another and the system had taken time to assess what was happening with Lance.

Considering the way his arm had swelled before, it seemed that whatever had been in his system had reacted with the phenstenol that had been introduced when his skin was punctured.

Coran was at a loss for what it was. The computer brought up traces of different substances, things Lance had eaten in the past 24 hours, and there were a few that weren’t familiar.

As Lance shuddered, despite the blankets he had been given, Coran supposed it didn’t matter so much what it was, but how they were going to get it out of his system.

“It’s alright, I have a bucket.” Hunk was speaking gently to his friend. Lance had put a hand over his mouth, trying to stop the nausea that rose in his throat.

“Might be better for him to throw it up. His system is trying to fight it the best way it can," Coran instructed from his station.

Lance’s hand spasmed and he took in a large gasp of air.

He curled his fingers together, forcing the shaking to stop. But the muscles clenched tighter and Lance sucked in a loud breath. Hunk could see the muscle in Lance’s forearm go rigid under his skin. Lance ground his teeth against the cramp.

It didn’t seem to be stopping and Lance let out a low groan.

Hands were on his arm, gently, carefully rubbing small circles.

“Relax, relax, relax.” Coran was muttering softly. Lance thought he needed to explain that he couldn’t control it, he couldn’t make it stop. But then Coran was placing his hand over the area, warming it as he continued to speak quietly. Pleading that it would relax and stop hurting.

Concern and helplessness pulled at Coran’s features.

That's when Lance realized it.

Coran didn’t know how to help him.

Lance had known that adults didn’t know everything. He knew that sometimes they put on a brave face and told kids it would be fine, even if they had no idea. Lance’s mother had done it when he was young, telling him everything was alright, even when money was tight and Lance could see how tired his parents were from working overtime. He had done it himself when his grandfather had gotten sick and he told his young niece and nephew it was going to be okay. When adults are scared, they lie to protect others from fear.  

The cramp finally stopped and Coran breathed a sigh of relief. With great care, he sat Lance’s arm down and smiled broadly. It was forced and strained and didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s alright.” Coran gave his hand a soft pat. “Just a side effect. You’re going to be fine.”

Lance felt a steady fear curl its way into his gut.  

* * *

 

Lance’s head had begun to hurt so badly that it almost blocked out the cramps that ran up his arms and legs.

Almost.

All he knew was that it felt as though his body was rebelling against him. He had thrown up so many times that he was no longer embarrassed over it. Spots from the burst blood vessels spread across his face. His arm throbbed and he had nearly cried when Coran changed the dressing there.

They had already sent out data to the planet’s medical facility. Hoping that they would understand the readings better than Coran.

And they waited.

And departure was delayed.

Again and again.

“Lance, stop apologizing.” Pidge finally hissed, sounding truly irritated now. “You’re making us feel like assholes.” She was sitting at the end of his cot, staying out of the way of vomit and the IV line. She had taken up the role of trying to soothe the cramps that went through his calves and feet. She massaged and kept a heating pack arranged just right. It didn’t help much.

Lance let out a muffled moan as his left arm seized up. The pain stole away his voice, making him unable to apologize again even if he wanted to.

Hunk’s hands followed the pain, tried to soothe, trying to make the muscles stop contracting and just relax.

“Uh, Coran? There’s blood around his hand.”

From around the IV site, blood had begun to seep out and stain the medical tape. Coran breathed out slowly, studying the hand for only a moment before turning away.

“I’ll set up a new line in his wrist. It will just take a tick.”

The muscle in Lance’s arm finally relaxed and Lance sagged against his pillow, utterly spent.

His shirt was stained with sweat and puke. They hadn’t been able to replace it yet.

Lance really didn’t care anymore. Time was moving by in some kind of horrible haze and he welcomed the way his reality finally dimmed and unconsciousness claimed him.

* * *

 

Shiro was there and Lance had no idea how long he had been in the room. Last time he had checked into his surroundings, Hunk had been with him, holding his hand. Lance missed the reassuring warmth.

He let his eyes drift over, falling on Shiro's face, trying to see if there was annoyance in his expression.

Coran was on the other side, asking if there was any news. Shiro said no. They were talking quickly and Lance found he couldn't follow all the words. They blurred out the same way his vision did.

Shiro finally caught Lance's eye, causing Lance to sink further back into the thin mattress.

“How are you feeling?”

Lance nodded, realized that wasn't an appropriate response and ended up making a small, strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Shiro took in a slow deep breath; a calming exercise Lance had seen him do in meditation. Because Shiro was incredibly stressed and Lance was adding to that.

Shiro gave his head a shake and cleared his throat.

“Coran gave you a painkiller. Is it helping?"

Lance made what he hoped was an affirmative noise in his throat. Shiro nodded before continuing. "Word has gotten out that you’re sick. Some of your fans were getting too close to the ship.” Shiro motioned to a stack of letters on the small bedside table. “They couldn't message the ship directly, but they’ve written you some well-wishes. They're all in different languages though.”

Lance nodded again. That was an appropriate response this time, right? He hoped so because speaking felt like an exhausting task.

“Lance,” Coran piped up. “I'm going to give you something to help with muscle cramps. You're probably going to just sleep from it though.”

Lance made another noise that Coran took as consent and the next thing Lance knew, a cold sensation was moving through his veins. He felt as though he had plunged into cold dark water.

He shut his eyes against that lost feeling. He was slipping, but with a soft jolt he realized he wanted to say something.

“Pidge said… not to apologize.” His voice was strained and there wasn't enough air, causing his words to fade out.

“Right.” Shiro spoke slowly, his fingers now brushing lightly on Lance's forehead.

“I am though. Sorry I mean.” Lance forced his eyes open, but there was only a blur of colors that greeted him.

“Yeah, I know you are. Try to sleep.” The fingers were gone, taking all the warmth in the room with them.

Lance stared as the lights swirled around. Dizzy, he shut his eyes once more.

If it would allow him to escape the pain and illness, he could sleep forever.

* * *

 

The next time Lance awoke, he found Keith sitting beside him.

“Am I hallucinating?” Lance’s voice came out with less effort. Perhaps he was healing.

“No,” Keith frowned.

“Did I die? Are we dead?”

“Shiro got in contact with me.”

“For Red?” That made sense. Lance couldn’t pilot like this. They needed someone to pick up his slack so that they could form Voltron.

“What? No, I’m not here to pilot Red.”

“Why then?” Lance shuffled carefully, waiting for the muscle pain that didn't come.

“Shiro’s trying to meet with leaders here. Until you feel better and you guys can go join the rest of the resistance.”

That made sense. They were adapting plans for him. Lance let his eyes fall to Keith’s hands. He was holding Lance's fan mail.

“Rude.” Lance pointed with effort at the letters. His IV line pulled at him. “You’re reading my mail.”

Keith did look slightly embarrassed at that. “Not like I can read it. Allura was translating some of them. I was writing the translation at the bottom so you can read them later.”

“Allura?” Lance squeaked out. That was embarrassing and just awkward. He didn’t want Allura reading other people’s love confessions or whatever to him.

“She thought it would cheer you up at least.”

Lance groaned. The intentions were good, but still…

“Loverboy Lance?”

Lance saw the raised eyebrow and slight smirk. Keith wasn't the easiest to read, but Lance had become better at it over time.

“I’m sick, you can’t make fun of me.”

“Not making fun of you… just wondering if that’s your official title now.”

“You _are_ making fun of me… teasing.” That was the right word for it.

Keith’s smirk broadened into a genuine smile. “Maybe a little.”

The doors to the infirmary opened and Allura bustled in. She looked distracted and… worried. Probably worrying about the upcoming battle plan.

“You’re awake,” Allura’s eyes had widened in surprise. Lance only hummed his response, feeling exhausted once more.

Allura took a seat besides Keith, pulling the letters from his hands without much thought.

“How are you feeling, Lance?”

“Numb,” Lance cleared his throat, “which, I guess is for the best.”

“You can go back to sleep, if you’d like.” Allura smiled gently at him and Lance felt that flutter of embarrassment in his chest return.  “Probably for the best while you have the pain medicine working.”

Lance gave the slightest nod and shuffled down in his blanket and pillow. His IV line got in the way, but at least it didn’t ache the way his arm did. While his pain was dulled by the gauzy filter of medication, he was still sore. He couldn’t touch his left arm and he definitely couldn’t lay on that side.

The room was quiet except for the rustling of pages and Allura translating quietly for Keith as he scribbled the correct words down for Lance to look at later. It was a lot of gushing over Lance and wishes that he would feel better soon.

He felt himself blush at the situation, but he enjoyed listening to Allura and Keith. It was soothing to hear them both talking about something that wasn’t directly battle or Voltron related. Lance wouldn’t say it was normal, but at least it was peaceful.

There was a letter that mentioned Keith, and Allura stumbled as she explained that it was about her and not him. But Keith already knew. He’d been watching their broadcasts. Between missions with the Blade, he caught them when he could.

It made Lance feel less isolated; knowing Keith was actually keeping tabs on them all. He let out a deep breath and began to really drift off, his friends’ conversation dying away.

Allura’s soft tone stopped suddenly.

“I’m sorry. I think it is my fault.” Allura went over the line again.

“What?” Keith was staring. He ignored the confused sound Lance made.

“You were so nice at the party… I don’t know this word here.” Allura stood, making the two boys jump. “I’m going to get Coran.”

She rushed from the room without further explanation.

* * *

 

“The word is ‘jealous.’” Coran pointed at it. “I was _jealous_ every time that you looked at someone… I didn’t mean to hurt you. It shouldn’t have hurt you…’” Coran stared with widened eyes. “Ah… I see.”

“What is it?” Allura whispered. “Coran, what-”

“A love potion.”

“A love potion? Is that a thing?” Keith scowled.

“For some species, it can be. I’m guessing not for humans?” Coran tilted his head curiously.

“Only in stories," Lance muttered.

“She didn’t say what was in it.” Coran flipped the page over. “She needed to tell us what was in it.”

Coran ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking out to the side. “Lance.” Coran leaned forward, making sure he had Lance’ attention. “Do you remember this person? A description or a name? She says she was jealous every time. This is someone that has been around you more than once. She had to have put some planning into it.” Coran didn’t give Lance time to respond. “Do you remember anyone handing you a drink specifically? Anything that tasted off?”

There were a lot of drinks.

Lance licked his lips.

“Uh. Maybe?” Great. Really helpful. “Lots of people were handing me stuff.” Lance felt the now familiar embarrassment color his cheeks.

Allura had raised her eyebrows and Keith’s scowl deepened.

“I don’t think it was the Ense’tar you mentioned. This doesn’t fit. Was there anyone else that made you uncomfortable?”

“Not really. Just a little when I got stabbed by that one girl.”  

“What the hell kind of party was this?” Keith blurted out. “You got stabbed?”

“Barely. It was an accident. She fell asleep on me.”

“Was she near your drink?”

“I don’t- things were already feeling kind of fuzzy. I don’t know.”

“I don’t think this line of questioning is going to lead us to a culprit,” Allura finally chimed in. Coran sighed and nodded in agreement.

Oh thank god. Please no more questions. Lance had felt like an idiot before, it was painfully obvious as he had Allura and Keith now as an audience.

“That letter doesn’t say _anything_ about what it contained?” Allura motioned to the paper in question.

“No.” Coran crossed his arms. “But I will send out a message, ask if anyone at the nearby medical facility knows what would be put in a drink like that specifically.”

Lance had started to pull his knees up, curling in on himself, but he stopped when pain flared in his calves. He let out a soft gasp without meaning to. Maybe if he held still, it wouldn’t fully cramp up. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so badly this time.

The muscles tensed and Lance felt his feet both follow suit. Lance shut his eyes and tried to stop the groan that escaped him. Coran was saying something. Allura and Keith were both talking quickly. They were asking him something.

Keith set a hand on his upper arm, not realizing Lance had bandages there. Not realizing he was still sore.

Lance gagged as the pain sent his stomach spinning. His blanket was taken away and he was rolled onto his side.

Lance wanted them to stop. Stop talking, stop touching him, stop hurting him.

Coran was speaking in his ear, but he could not make sense of it. It sounded like an apology, but Coran didn’t need to apologize, this was all Lance’s fault anyway.

He felt hands on his legs, fingers pressing into tightened muscles. A spasm wrenched through his leg and he felt his heel make contact with something. He hoped he hadn’t just kicked Allura. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He just couldn’t get it to stop.

Coran's warmth was gone in an instant and Lance found himself letting out a noise of protest. He didn’t mean it before, he didn’t want Coran to leave him. It hurt and he felt so sick and Coran could fix it. Coran still put up with him, even when he was annoying. Even when he made stupid mistakes and got hurt because of it. _Please don't go away. Please, please, please._

“He’s not leaving you. Nobody is leaving you.” Keith’s words were rushed and harsh in his ear.

 _Worried_. Lance’s brain supplied him. Keith was worried. Lance tried to tell him not to be, but he couldn’t tell what words were escaping him and which were being swallowed up by whimpers and groans.

A calloused hand swept through his sweaty hair.

“Lance, it’s going to be okay.”

Keith’s comfort sounded like he was giving orders. Lance would have thought it was funny if he wasn’t so sure he was dying.

His veins turned to ice and everything tensed before every muscle let go. Lance collapsed into the mattress, aware for the first time that he had been holding himself in a half sitting position. Lance wearily eyed his IV site. Coran’s hand was brushing across his arm and relief flooded his senses.

At least he wasn’t alone.

* * *

 

The infirmary had grown quiet lately. Lance’s pained groans had even slipped away as he slept more and more deeply.

“He is weakening.” Coran had said. Because dying wasn’t acceptable. Couldn’t be the word Coran meant. Not like this. Not quietly dying in the infirmary while Coran dealt with symptoms and tried to lessen the boy’s discomfort. Lance’s systems were showing signs of beginning to shut down. The process wasn’t slowing. Shiro had been going over battle plans with rebel leaders when the corner of Shiro’s datapad blinked with an in castle transmission. Shiro had hit it, felt his stomach drop when he saw Coran’s face.

“I think you should come.”

It wasn’t that Shiro had been avoiding the infirmary. Avoiding Lance. There was just a lot to plan still. A universe to save. As soon as Lance got well, they needed to be ready to move.

But Lance.

Shiro’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, a reminder of the cold emptiness that surrounded him more and more lately. He had felt like he was losing his grip on something. His surroundings faded in and out with a headache that never quite left him.

It was stress. He was sure it was. But he didn’t have time to be stressed.

_No time for Lance either._

Shiro felt guilt settle in his gut.

It hadn’t been his intention to ignore him.

It honestly hadn’t been his intention.

It wasn’t his fault.

Pressure pinched between his brows and he grimaced.

* * *

 

Lance was still.

The only movement was the quiet breaths that caused the rise and fall of his chest. And those seemed too short.

Lance had been in pain and Coran had given him everything he could, but now Lance wasn’t waking up. He couldn’t rouse him.

They were going to put him in a pod. Coran assured them all that it would slow things down. But when Hunk asked about it making him better, Coran had hesitated. The pods weren’t as equipped for dealing with toxins and poisons. A poison could still run its course, even if someone was in a pod.

Coran said it would be alright. He was sure the nearby medical facility would get back to him soon and everything would be okay. They just needed to make sure Lance was taken care of in the meantime.

It would be alright.

“Then why’d you call us all down here?”

“Pidge,” Hunk shook his head.

“If he’s going to be fine, then why call all of us?”

“Pidge.” Shiro this time. But Pidge just shook her head. She set her lips in a tight frown and smothered a protest in her throat. She gave Lance’s hand a squeeze and then turned, walking out of the room without another word.

“Pidge!” Keith called after her and he looked like he wanted to follow her, but he locked his feet in place _. Give her space_ , a Shiro sounding voice in his head said.

Keith pretended to listen as Coran said something reassuring. He helped move Lance to a pod. And he sat a hand on Hunk’s arm when the other boy looked like he might cry. Then they all drifted away, back to what they had been doing before Coran had called for them.

Keith was going through the motions, but his mind was elsewhere. Some part of him was with the war still. His brain picking apart plans that the Blade had set in motion. Plans he had stepped away from to come here. He wasn’t supposed to be here long. He needed to get back.

Keith stopped walking. Realizing he was stalking down the hallway with no destination in mind. Where was he going? To Black’s hangar? To Red's?

Keith heard someone behind him and he turned to find Shiro, standing still, with his head down, concentrating on breathing; the air not coming easily as he forced it through his nasal cavity.

“Did you call me to pilot Red?” His tone was accusatory, his eyes sharp. It hadn’t been what Shiro had said when he contacted Keith. He had asked Keith to come back. That was it. That was all Shiro needed to do and Keith had found the time.

“No,” Shiro cleared his throat. “No, that wasn’t the reason.”

“Then why?”

“I think something has gone wrong between Lance and I. And I just thought- you’ve lead them, you do know them- you and Lance seem to have an understanding. So, I thought it might help. I just thought it would help if we were all together again.”

“I can't do much." Keith shook his head. "Not against this.”

“I know, I know, but I think all of us being here is good and especially now…” Shiro trailed off. Something uncertain crossed his face and Keith was surprised. Shiro was not indecisive and if he ever second guessed himself, he worked hard not to let it show.

“It’s going to be okay.” Shiro forced out the hollow reassurance.

“Right.” Keith didn't know who he was trying to convince here. He shook his head again and huffed out a breath of air before continuing down the hallway.

The sound of Shiro’s footsteps faded as they went their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave a comment! They really do help a lot. 
> 
> The third part is being touched up and may take me a little bit to get to where I want it, but I will hopefully have it up next week. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we've come to the end. Thank you everyone for reading and commenting and offering amazing support. Please excuse mistakes and enjoy, thank you

Shiro was watching Lance's vitals blip across the small screen. He had been there for vargas; unable to sleep and with a headache that wouldn't stop. Shiro let his mind drift.

He thought about Lance, being so sick, not even being awake enough to comment about going into the pod and Shiro…

Had Shiro said anything to him?

What was the last thing he'd said to Lance?

 _Don't_. He chided himself. _Don't get caught up in that._

_Don't think about last words. You hate last words._

Shiro shook his head, shutting his eyes against the way it made his head swim.

Maybe because he was bad at them.

Shiro rubbed his forehead hard. Working his fingers down to the bridge of his nose, where he massaged gently.

He was too tired, he should sleep.

One more blip from the monitor and Shiro breathed in. Another and he breathed out.

Another and another. Little lines jumping, signifying Lance was still there, still alive.

Shiro breathed.

He stayed the rest of the night.

* * *

 

Coran's mask of calm finally slipped when the message from the nearby medical facility finally came through.

He had been monitoring Lance's vitals, as he had been doing often, when the computer alerted him to the transmission.

All composure was lost as he slammed his fingers down on the appropriate keys to open the message.

_Give him trixaciate. If you do not have any, we will send over right away._

They didn't apologize for the wait, but they did mention that the scans and information that was sent over to them had a large amount of an unknown substance in Lance’s blood. Unknown to the castleship. Unknown to Coran. But with the way it was interacting with Lance's system and the way it reacted to phenstanol, it could only be one thing.

Kalrium was an element found only in a few corners of the galaxy. Sharing some properties with urlonium, but not naturally occurring, it had only gained popularity in the last hundred or so years.  

But kalrium, even in small quantities, was dangerous to some species. Reacting with phenstanol and chemicals that were found primarily in a human’s digestive system. Usually used in cleaning solutions, it was not recommended for ingestion.

Coran sent out an urgent response, requesting the trixaciate.

Coran then sent a message out to the entire castleship, he stumbled over his words, but managed to blurt something understandable enough. As soon as he finished speaking he collapsed into a chair and breathed out, relief overcoming him in the moment.

The trixaciate arrived a varga later.

* * *

 

Coran had scared the shit out of Keith.

He had been sparring with the bot when the blaring message sounded, filling the training room with quick talking and a garbled mess of words he didn't understand.

Expecting the worse, Keith had sprinted from the training room and ran all the way to Lance's pod.

He found nothing amiss. Everyone else soon showed up, looking in different states of panic. When Coran finally walked in, they all started talking at once and it took Coran a few tries to explain it thoroughly so that they understood.

Lance was going to be okay.

With that knowledge, and Lance soon on his way to recovery, Keith was making his plans to leave; he had a pick up scheduled soon.

But until then, he made himself useful by patrolling around the ship and scaring away any fans, gawkers and well-wishers.

He had just gotten rid of a particularly stubborn group when he heard an odd kind of sniffling sound.

Great. One of them was crying around the corner.

They hadn't told the general public that Lance was going to be okay. All further information was being kept private. So there were quite a few fans who still believed Lance was dying.

Keith was content to let them think that a little longer. While he knew it was probably only one person responsible for Lance's illness, Keith saw no reason to be nice to these people. They were nosey and loud. And they didn’t truly care about Lance. Not really. They only cared about an image of him.

Keith briefly wondered if Lance understood the difference.

With a shake of his head, Keith squared his shoulders and prepared to scare off one last exuberant fan.  

* * *

 

Lance was pretty sure he was floating, though he didn’t know what that meant. Floating, drifting, gliding along through space. Peaceful. Kind of fuzzy and cold though.

He thought he could feel something brushing against him. Like an insistent little niece or nephew asking for attention.

_Wait a minute, wait a minute._

Things became less fuzzy. The floating slowed. He was lying down. That insistent nagging was back. Prodding at his mind...

_I’m too tired right now. Five more minutes._

“Are you kidding me right now?” The sharp voice cut through the last of the haze. As if a switch was flipped, Lance became aware that he was very much not floating along peacefully. He was very much existing in his body right now and it deeply ached. There was a sharp jab in his side.

“Pidge!”

“Coran says he should be waking up and the first thing he says is that he wants five more minutes. After freaking everyone out for days!”

“I think it’s a good sign.”

Lance felt a hand on his forehead. Calloused fingers, but so warm. _Hunk_.

Lance managed to unstick his eyelids and blearily take in the room. Everything blurred together, it all just looked like shapes-

“Finally!” Pidge threw herself around his neck and Lance let out a small huff of air in protest. Despite sounding so irritated, Lance felt his friend’s breathing hitch as she pressed her face into his neck.

“Don’t do that again,” was the quiet whisper that he felt more than heard. Lance hummed in response. And even though she had said he should be waking up, surrounded with warmth, he felt himself being pulled under again.

"Alright, five more minutes," Hunk whispered. It was the last thing Lance heard before drifting off once more.

* * *

 

Lance jolted into consciousness this time. He gasped and sat up, the urgency of a nightmare tugging him upright. He would have jumped out of bed if his body still didn't ache so strongly.

He carefully lowered himself back down, doing his best not to agitate sore muscles. Any painkillers he had been given must have worn off.

Lance took several deep breaths. Once he felt calmer, he turned his head, finding Coran passed out awkwardly in a chair.

The Altean snored loudly and his head lolled to the other side. Coran must have been so exhausted. And that was Lance’s fault. He had already been recovering from his own sickness and Lance had added to his stress.

Though, now that Lance thought about it, his memories of the last few days seemed blurred and distant. He didn’t know what had actually happened and what had been dreamt up by pain and illness.

Illness.

Poisoning was more accurate. He remembered that much.

Lance hated to disturb him, but Coran was going to have a sore neck if he stayed like that.

“Hey, Coran,” Lance whispered, surprised that his voice was much lower than where he was trying to pitch it. “ _Coran_ ,” Lance tried again.

Coran snapped awake with a flail and a cut off snore.

“Lance!” He was immediately awake and aware. It was startling how quickly he had snapped to attention. “How are you? Does anything hurt, my boy?”

“No,” Lance replied without thinking. Coran raised an eyebrow and Lance shuffled under the blanket. “My arm might be a little sore,” he amended. Coran nodded in understanding.

“Had to pull you out of the pod, can’t put you back in until the kalrium is out of your system. Though, you may be feeling well enough soon that you won’t need to go back. We'll just have to see.”

Coran continued talking, his voice loud and cheery. He smiled kindly at Lance and carefully smoothed down his blanket, fussing over him.

But there was something around his eyes that Lance hadn’t seen before. Maybe he'd just never noticed it. Exhaustion and fear and worry all etched around the edges of his face. Lance felt a pang of guilt.

He had caused that.

“Coran, are you okay?” The words were out before he could stop them and, while they were near whispered, Coran stopped speaking immediately and was left floundering for a moment. He waved a hand through the air. Gathering himself again.

“I’m perfectly fine, my boy.”

“Are you sure?”

Coran smiled and Lance thought he looked even more troubled than before.

“I’m always fine.” Coran took a breath and leaned back in his chair. “Well, earworm incidents aside. I’m the picture of good health, I assure you.”

“Okay.” Lance wasn’t convinced, but it didn’t feel right to pressure him. He owed Coran a lot. The least he could do was believe what he had to say.

“More importantly, now that you’re awake. Food is in order. And,” Coran pulled out a datapad and began typing away, “I’m sure Shiro will want to talk to you before we head out on our way.”

Lance groaned. Coran smiled sympathetically.

“Don’t worry, lad. It’s not going to be what you think.”

* * *

 

The plan had been to let it leak out that the red paladin was gravely ill and then ask for anyone with any information to please come forward. That Lance’s life depended on it.

It wasn’t a lie.

Allura hadn’t liked the idea of broadcasting the illness, worrying about it making them seem vulnerable. But Shiro had been determined. He didn’t care if the culprits didn’t mean any harm. They had delayed their leaving, impacted the war and hurt Lance. Shiro wanted to know who was responsible.

Pidge had remarked that Shiro was just dying to lecture someone about irresponsibility. That was only funny after Lance had taken a turn for the better.

Luckily, their investigation came to a fruitful, though unfulfilling, end.

Shiro had walked into the infirmary with Hunk and Pidge trailing behind him. Pidge climbed up and sat on the edge of Lance's thin mattress and Hunk was arranging some food onto his side table. They both looked happy to see him awake. But Shiro...

“Do you know them?” Shiro was frowning deeply, shoving a datapad in Lance’s face.

Lance blinked at the datapad, realizing he was looking at a still image of some weirdly… familiar....

“She gave me water. Told me to be careful around that other girl- the Ense’tar.” Lance looked up at Shiro, confused.

“That’s _them_.”

“Them?”

“Her, specifically.” Shiro tapped the screen at the green alien Lance had briefly met at the party. “And from what she said, she was slipping you drinks all night.”

Lance felt his face heat up. There had been a lot of people there and he had honestly, not seen this girl, not until she actively pulled him off the dance floor. Her and her friend that he mistook for a scarf...

“I didn’t notice her.”

“She was also in our hotel. Allura recognized her.”

“Allura?”

“When Allura went to get a first aid kit for you, she saw her in the hallway, she remembered because the girl was just standing there down the hall. Not moving.”

She had been slipping him drinks all night? She had been in their hallway? Lance felt his stomach turn.

“How did you figure out it was her?" Lance felt like he had too little air. It made his voice low and breathy.

Pidge scoffed and folded her arms across her chest.

“Keith found her lurking around the outside of the ship," Hunk explained. "She admitted to what she did. Keith wasn’t happy.”

“He told her to stop crying like an idiot.” Pidge broke in. “I have the castle surveillance on it. If you ever want to see Keith going off on a crazy, teenage stalker girl.”

“I never noticed her.” Lance was still trying to place her in his mind. In the letter she implied that she had been around multiple times, but Lance had never looked twice, never recognized her.

“Well, she had noticed you,” Pidge picked some stray lint from Lance’s blanket.

“She kept saying she was Loverboy Lance’s number one fan." Hunk scratched the back of his neck. "It wasn’t good, dude.”

“I’m sorry.” Because Lance didn’t know what to say. This sounded like it had been a lot of trouble for everyone and it was all due to him. Him and his stupid Loverboy persona. He had thought it was fun for the show, but he had invited that attention. He had invited it and it had nearly _killed_ him.

“I didn’t- I should have… I should have…” Lance sucked in a breath. “It’s my fault, I’m so-”

Pidge actually slapped her hand down on the mattress so hard that everyone jumped.

“If you say you’re sorry one more time. I swear- Lance, I swear I’m going to punch you.”

“Violent," Hunk whispered under his breath.

Lance twisted his blanket between his fingers. He should be laughing this off, right? The danger was gone, the culprit caught. But he was still so tired, worn out from illness and pain. And an ugly guilty feeling had settled permanently in his chest, squeezing his heart.

Pidge grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled it towards her.

"Relax," she murmured under her breath, just as she had done when he was experiencing wave after wave of muscle cramps. She dragged her thumb over his knuckles and Lance found some of his tension seep out of him, replaced with a simple kind of warmth.

“Thanks,” he breathed out.  

“The important thing is," Shiro started quietly, "she’s going to be taken care of. The planet has its own justice system and she’s going to be getting some, well, help.” Shiro crossed his arms. “Though the real important thing here is whether or not you’re feeling better?”

Lance nodded and he gave Pidge’s hand a squeeze, letting her know she could let go.

She held on anyway.

“Good enough to pilot a robot lion through space, yeah.” Lance’s eyes darted around the room, noticing who was missing. “Unless, Keith was going to-”

“Keith already left, man.” Hunk was pushing the side table forward. Lance wavered as he pivoted to face the small table. Pidge helped to steady him and Hunk’s hand went to his friends back, supporting him automatically.

“Yeah, he was only on loan to us for a limited time. The Blade asked for him back.” Pidge finally let go of Lance’s hand so he could try eating the soup Hunk was pushing toward him.

“Oh,” Lance felt a weird mixture of disappointment and, though it made him feel guilty,  a tiny bit of relief. He would have liked to say goodbye, but it also meant that Shiro wasn’t mad enough to ground him. Lance could still pilot.

Lance’s eyes fell on Shiro. He was looking off to the side, staring away at something that nobody else could see.

“Shiro?”

“Yeah?” Shiro snapped back into focus, forcing the slightest smile onto his face.

“I won’t do it again.”

“Yeah, I know.” Shiro stood up to his full height. “Eat and get some rest. We’re leaving in a few vargas.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean?” Shiro tilted his head.

“You’re not going to lecture me or anything?”

“I think you’ve been through enough.” Shiro hesitantly reached out, too tentative for the action to seem natural. He slowly patted Lance’s good arm. “We’re alright, Lance.”

And Shiro smiled and Lance could see the relief on his face.

“Okay.” Lance nodded. "We're alright." Because he was better and if he was okay then he wasn't causing Shiro stress and Shiro could maybe be okay too.

Chatter erupted in the room and they all talked as Lance ate his first real meal in a long time.

Not too long later, Coran ushered everyone out, saying Lance needed as much rest as possible.

Coran busied himself with a datapad and settled down in the chair by the bedside. Lance considered the circles under the Altean’s eyes. He still looked so tired.

“Coran?”

“Hmmm?” Coran hummed casually, but Lance could tell he was listening closely.

Pidge had said not to say ‘sorry’ anymore.

“Thank you.”

Coran shut his eyes briefly before grinning wide.

“You, my boy, are most welcome.”

* * *

 

Coran felt like he was picking up pieces as they fell apart. Put them back together. Bandage, tend to, scan, assess and hope that he could figure it out along the way. He had done it so far and he had broken children beaming at him thanking him for keeping them alive, so they could keep fighting.

Coran sighed and rolled over in his bed.

Not nice thoughts tonight.

_No more of this._

Coran left his room and set to wandering the halls. He was sure he had systems to check, scans to run…

Despite the work he told himself he could be doing, he found himself on one of the observation decks. It was one of his favorite places. Just a spot to spend some time thinking.

He wasn't the only one who thought so.

“You should be asleep, my boy.”

Lance jerked in surprise. Dropping the letter he had been holding.

Lance had been in the middle of the floor and,upon closer inspection, Coran realized he had surrounded himself with fan mail. It sprawled out around him and Lance… Lance looked…

"Lance, what is it? Do you feel ill?"

Because his eyes were red and sunken and his hands had a slight tremor.

“I couldn't sleep and I just-" Lance motioned to the letters. "I never paid attention before, but there had to have been something I missed. I should have noticed her. I should have noticed something.  I can't read all these, but it's the same signature over and over. I should have..." Lance pushed some of the letters into a stack. "Being in the show, I didn’t think what I was doing was wrong.”

“It wasn’t.” Coran was quick to assure him and he sat beside him, giving Lance his full attention.

“Nearly died though," Lance whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was at least a little my fault." Lance shrugged, "Going to that party by myself…”

“It's nothing you should have suffered so much for. It’s-”

“I don’t know what I should have done differently,” Lance interrupted. Coran pulled in a breath and waited for him to continue. "I should have been more aware." Lance looked down at the scattered letters and datapad with the messages window open. Several messages to “Loverboy Lance” were selected. They all had the same author and they all said the same thing. “These are from all my time doing the show." Lance motioned to the datapad. "Alllura translated a few for me until she didn't want to do it anymore. All the letters said something about wishing she could keep me to herself. Maybe if I’d had them translated sooner...”

Coran tilted his head. Honestly, he had also read some of Lance's fanmail in the past, but he wouldn’t be able to say if any of it had made him uneasy. He hadn’t been thinking about it at the time.

“Should I have stopped being in the Voltron Show? Or just paid more attention to who was around me? I was stupid, right? I never paid attention. I-”

“Lance, you are allowed to make mistakes, you are allowed to not be perfect.”

“But I could die if I make too many mistakes, or get someone else hurt! I can’t make mistakes. Too much is depending on us.” Lance shoved his letters away and clenched his hands into fists. "I can't keep making mistakes." He had looked away, but Coran could hear the tears coming on.

Coran took a deep breath. He waited until he was sure Lance had said all he wanted to say for the moment.

“Lance,” Coran moved closer. “Nobody is perfect. None of us are." He tapped the boy's shoulder gently, prompting Lance to look up. "Me, especially, it would seem. But that’s why you have the team, all of us. And I… I am sorry. I haven’t been doing a good job watching over you." Coran brushed a few strands of Lance's hair from his forehead. The boy would need a haircut soon. "I will take better care of everyone.”

Lance wiped his shirtsleeve across his eyes and then leaned into Coran’s shoulder.

“That’s a lot of responsibility for you.”

“True.” Coran tapped the datapad, clearing the messages away. “But we must always do our best, hmmm?”

Lance’s eyes darted to his hastily stacked letters and then up to Coran. He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again, unsure.

Coran smiled and wrapped his arm around Lance’s shoulders. “Everything will be alright.”

Lance finally nodded, but Coran noticed the fragility there. Lance didn’t completely believe him.

“We’ll both be okay,” Coran insisted.

Lance shut his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Okay," was the quiet response.

Coran hugged him to his side, doing his best to be there for him. He would do anything to help get rid of that broken look Lance was trying to mask.

They sat quietly, side by side for a long time.

* * *

 

It felt like a lifetime had passed since they had been able to rest. Finally, it looked like the end of the war might be in sight, with Lotor’s help, things felt like they might be coming to an end.

They had been allowed to take a brief break, long enough to visit a nearby planet and stop for some supplies that Coran was insisting on having. Something for the castleship that Lance didn’t really understand, but he was happy to get off the ship for a few vargas. It was a warm planet, full of a variety of people.

He had been trailing after Hunk in the bustling market, when small hands wrapped around his elbow.

He didn’t mean to jump the way he did, but he had been caught by surprise and he had told himself that he wouldn’t let himself be caught off guard like that anymore.

“Loverboy Lance!”

Lance cringed. He hadn’t been calling himself that. Not since the show, not since the kalrium.

He didn’t recognize the alien. She was short with pale lavender skin and large blue eyes. He didn’t know if they had met before. If he had seen her before.

If she had been following him.

“I loved you in the show!”

Lance forced a grin, even as he felt bile start to creep up his throat.

“Tha- Thanks.” _Don’t freak out._

“Could you come meet my friends! They’re fans too!”

_No._

_Not doing that. Nope._

“I have to- I have to-”

This girl needed to let go of his arm. She needed to give him space.

“There’s- I need-” Lance kept grasping at different words, but nothing was coming out that made sense. _She’s probably harmless. She’s just excited. Stop overreacting!_

Lance sucked in a deep breath and held it.

_Breathe out, idiot._

The girl’s hands slipped away, he thought she was asking him another question, but all Lance could think about was how everything had gone a bit dark around the edges.

“Oh, there you are!” A large familiar arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him away. “Sorry, we gotta go! Bye!” Hunk waved off the disappointed girl.

Lance sunk into his friend’s side, just wanting to hide away from the rest of the universe.

“You alright?” Hunk mumbled once they had moved to a quieter section.

“Yeah, I was just surprised. I’m okay.” Despite what he said, he made no move to separate himself from Hunk’s side. Hunk hummed in response, leaving his arm slung casually around Lance’s shoulders.

They soon found Coran and began following behind him as he visited a few merchant's stalls. Coran noticed the way they were trailing after him and the way Lance had shrunk down, trying to be unnoticeable. Something had obviously scared him or made him uncomfortable.

“Ready to go?” Coran asked quietly. He smiled carefully at Lance, but the boy only gave a curt nod.

They were walking out of the market, Coran finding a place on Lance’s other side, when Coran decided to speak up.

“How are you feeling?”

Lance shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.”

“Good.”

There was a long pause, Coran was trying to decide how to proceed. He needed to make sure they were all okay. Taking care of them wasn’t always the easiest, but someone had to make sure they were alright.

“How are you feeling, Coran?”

Coran blinked, surprised for a moment before his face split into a wide grin.

“Perfectly fine, my boy.” Coran patted his arm. “Thank you for asking.”

“We take care of each other.” Lance glanced at Hunk and then back to Coran. “Right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Coran felt a warmth fill his chest. “We do.”

Lance pulled away from Hunk, feeling more secure, walking between two people that cared about him. He casually bumped Coran’s elbow. When Coran glanced over at him, Lance smiled, bright, warm and full of life.

Coran was tired.

But with this group, for this team, he could keep going.

Coran smiled back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please do leave a comment! They really do brighten my day.


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